The Perfect Game
by that tanned idiot
Summary: A series of one-shots and drabbles about the multi-faceted relationship of one pitcher and catcher.
1. Stardust

_The summary does its job in what I'm going to be writing here for the most part, but I want to add a few more things. 1) Each drabble will stand alone, unconnected to the other ones unless I say so. 2) I'm going to be doing all sorts of genres, from humor to angst, but I'm a romantic at heart. So that will be the main genre that will mix with the rest. 3) I don't mind receiving ideas or requests; you never know, I may do it! 4) Feedback is always appreciated, but not insisted upon. I welcome constructive criticism, but not unsupported flames. 5) I really hope you find something to enjoy :)_

_I don't own Oofuri._

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1. Stardust

Mihashi had never before in his life been used to attention. So now that there were sudden schoolmate strangers awknowledging the baseball team's importance in upholding their school's name, especially the star pitcher that made the defense almost impenetrable, it made him twitch and stutter as horribly as when he'd first come to the club.

The way people would say good morning to him with such warmth, people who were in other classes or years and who he didn't know! It was ridiculous, but he still smiled. It was an odd thing to be constantly rewarded.

Tajima had explained to him one day that with being good at something, people would automatically follow and fawn. While the shorter boy had continued on to list how he was going to be on magazine pages when he was older ("...heroically holding the bat as if to slay a villain, six foot and ripped. Hot, the girls will come drooling!") Mihashi's mind began turning.

Praise. Appreciation. How _foreign_.

But there seemed to be one person who was entirely immune to such emotions. He was thinking about the real hero and rightful owner of the success. His catcher of course.

Abe didn't praise him, unless they had just won a game or had struck out an especially tough opponent. And even then it was a rough smile or a careful pat on the back, wary as to not hurt him in any way. Mihashi tried to think of why he wasn't so open in his congratulations like other teammates, but he just settled on that was how Abe was and would stay. He really didn't mind one bit.

Eventually the cheers became part of the normal background and Mihashi had gotten the hang of simply waving or smiling lightly, no longer blushing or feeling like his head was going to explode from pressure.

He found that even with all the yells from the expanding cheer squad or the girls that would bat their eyelashes at him, he enjoyed Abe's gruff words even more.

Being famous and known by strangers, Mihashi discovered oddly, was overrated.


	2. Dawn

2. Dawn

Abe's face twisted into a scowl as he felt the first rays of sunshine enter through his glass and smack him straight in the face. He had been in a blissful sleep before the sun had decided to keep up its unbreakable rotation and come around to Japan, raising out from the ocean and waking everything it touched.

But it was still summer, and Abe was still tired from just finishing all his exams barely a day ago. He had studied his ass of for this because he knew he needed to get good grades if he wanted to be accepted on any scholarship. Sure, they liked the athletic types, but not unless they were smart. Talk about a steep double-standard.

Thinking that maybe he should just pull the covers over his head and will himself back into another half-an-hour of sleep, he was interrupted by a sudden tap on his window. Thinking it was probably just a too curious sparrow, he kept his eyes closed. But when it persisted for another five solid clicks, he threw his blankets off with a huff.

Ignoring the floating dust that was illuminated by the sun as it suspended in the air, he moved to hang his legs off of his bed and saw that there was nothing on, or around, the sill. But then a small stone hit the glass, causing another click before falling back down out of sight. The hit had been dead center of the glass; he knew who was on the throwing end.

Getting up, cracking his back and feeling old even through he'd barely turned sixteen, he moved to open the window. Only to get a rock into his eye.

"God _damn it _Mihashi!" he groaned as his still half-asleep brain processed the feeling of pain.

"A-Abe-kun!" the perpetrator stuttered from below, dropping the rest of rocks he'd seemed to have collected to get his attention, "I-I'm s-so sorry!"

He wanted to yell 'stuff-it' but then kept it to himself, opting for, "What are you doing? You know, there is such a thing as a _door_. It's what normal people use,."

Watching as his orange-head ducked from the indirect insult of him being weird, Abe heard Mihashi mutter something to the grass below his shoes.

"What?" he asked as he leaned out of his window.

"I-I'm sorry for not using the door, I didn't want to wake up your family."

Oh, well now he felt and looked like an ass. Abe believed it was a specialty of Mihashi's.

"And I-I wanted to see if you wanted to p-practice."

Abe blinked, and allowed his brain to chew the thought over. He really had nothing to do in the four days Momokan was allowing them for break. Not to mention he hadn't been out in the field in the past few days thanks to those dreaded tests. Looking down, he dearly hoped that Mihashi had done well. They had studied hours together; what was the point in succeeding if Mihashi wasn't there along with him?

Looking at Mihashi's face that had lifted and was giving a weak smile, he wondered if idiots' brains bounced back faster. It would explain everything (and Tajima's odd ability to not let losses get him down).

The idea of throwing around the ball pointlessly sounded perfect. It sounded like the lethargic nature of summer and mindless entertainment; a new phase he was willing to jump into.

"Give me five minutes."


	3. Waterlilies

3. Waterlilies

"Hey, Abe-kun, look at them!"

Abe stopped his heavy steps, tired from practice just finished, to turn to look over his shoulder at Mihashi who was still on the small bridge he'd just passed over.

"What is it?" the black-haired teen asked, having to resist yawning.

"They're waterlilies," Mihashi said in continued awe as he scrambled off the bridge and stood at the bank.

"So what?" Abe continued to ask. Sometimes this idiot could be amazed by the simplest stuff; they were just plants. He turned back towards the street and started walking, hopefully Mihashi would hurry up and follow.

"I wonder if you can walk on them?"

Abe had barely heard the question before a huge splash resounded, causing him to turn around towards the bridge with a start. He felt his chest suddenly constrict as he didn't see Mihashi anymore.

But then a similar splash to the first sounded, and the red-head was appearing out from the river, blinking his eyes and twisting his head to look around.

Abe face-palmed himself.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked (more like _not thinking at all_) as he stomped back over to the small water channel that Mihashi was still stupidly standing in. The water came up to his shoulders as one of his beloved waterlily pads sat on his head, looking like a sad excuse of a hat.

Mihashi opened his mouth, as if to try and say something, before he closed it. He repeated this action and Abe realized in mixed amusement that he looked like a fish; he did belong in that water.

But then Mihashi lifted his hand from out of the water, revealing a pale pink flower with a bright yellow center. Abe stared at it for a few seconds before looking at Mihashi's face that was showing his uncertain, wavy smile while his eyes crinkled a little at the edges.

Sighing, Abe took the flower before using his other hand to haul Mihashi out of the water.


	4. Power

_AN: Let's get some angst up in here! Wo-HO! Also, thanks for the reviews guys :)_

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4. Power

He was going to stand there and watch Mihashi burn; watch him fall.

Mihashi knew this as he felt his shoulders shake, his eyes squeeze shut to try and halt the tears that were going to fall regardless of what he tried.

Mihashi had chosen the wrong side.

Momokan had ordered him to shake off some signs if he didn't feel they were the right assessment. In the first four innings, Mihashi had nodded to every pitch without fail. Mihashi had never thought he was wrong in his signs, in his orders the red-head enjoyed to follow through. But then his coach had told him again. Shake his head. Gain independence.

Now.

Not knowing what to do, he shook his head in a systematic random way. The number on the players jersey, Mihashi would count the pitches and then shake his head on that number, even if it went into the next batter or the one after.

He must have known what the coach was ordering of Mihashi, and he knew that listening to the coach was always essential. He didn't care. He must have still felt anger that blinded all the same.

This showed as he stood there; face up towards the beating sun on the field they'd just lost on. The plates they hadn't conquered, the bats and gloves that hadn't been enough; because of their internal combustion.

The worst of it was that Mihashi had felt like he'd given up in the last few innings. That he had given pitches the teenager should have known to shake off, but didn't know any better. To rub his stupidity in his face, to really hit it home.

Mihashi felt a sob come on, but bit on his tongue to hold it back, as he heard the crunch of cleats on the mound and saw the padded black chest through blurred vision.

This wasn't him, this wasn't the catcher or person Mihashi knew and it utterly terrified him. Where had his friend gone to? Was his anger really this great?

He was too close, the smell of the oiled armor mingling with his own dark scent. The way his chest was hovering just in front of his own made Mihashi unable to hear anything but his heart. Or that's what the pitcher thought, until a voice cut through the humid air.

"Don't you dare choose someone over me again."

And then Abe walked away.


	5. Books

5. Books

Abe felt his eyebrow twitch as he watched Mihashi tap his pencil against the paper, eyes staring out of the nearest window. He knew that the bright-haired teenager liked to drift off sometimes, it was one of the reasons that Abe was here studying here with him right now. It was the weekend and rather then studying baseball videos, Abe was helping him; he should be eternally grateful.

"Oi, hey!" Abe snapped. But Mihashi was still looking out the window, at the slowly falling snow.

"Hey! Idiot pitcher!" Abe continued on, reaching up and yanking on a lock of his hair (it was really getting too long, Abe realized) to make sure he got Mihashi's ever-changing attention.

This finally seemed to snap Mihashi out of his daze as he swung his head back, eyes squinted in pain from the pulling.

"A-Abe!" he whined with his lips flapping, "It hurts!"

"Good!" Abe snapped, "You were ignoring me!"

"I wasn't i-ignoring you!" Mihashi gasped back, seeming to he appalled just at the thought of such an action.

"Then what was so interesting that you forgot about me?" Abe asked, feeling his annoyance wane, as he let go of the bright lock.

Mihashi sighed in relief at being released, before saying, "The snow."

Abe raised an eyebrow; Mihashi grinned like the true idiot he was. Abe now felt his eye twitch as he saw Mihashi's head turn back towards the falling white.

"You want to go out into it, don't you?" Abe realized as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Mihashi froze, but then nodded frantically.

Sighing, Abe knew he wouldn't be able to focus until he fullfilled the wish. This still wasn't as bad as that one time he'd seen a balloon vendor and had begged for a yellow one. Abe felt like an idiot as he had bought it before handing it over to Mihashi who had hopped in place from happiness.

"Fine; come on then."

They then had to put all their layers back on, which took a good five minutes, before they were out in the cold. Abe was intensely annoyed; it was cold and he could already see his nose begin to turn red from pre-frostbite. It was the beginning of January, no one came outside unless necessary. Yet here he was all because Mihashi wanted to come out and- wait.

Where had the idiot gone to?

Just as Abe was about to call his name out, he felt something hit the side of his head, making his ear ring from the snowball. Turning to where the the projection had come from, he saw a flash of orange before it was gone behind a bush.

Oh. So he was going to play like _that, _huh?

"I hope you realize what you've just started," Abe said as he crouched down to get a snowball ready. He always beat Shun, Mihashi shouldn't be a problem.

In all his intellectual ability, Abe forgot that this was the ace of a baseball team he was talking about. One who had deadly accuracy that was shown when Abe stood, only to fall back down because of a hard ball to his lower back.

But Mihashi was still an idiot and didn't know how to take cover or hide, to plan his attacks and not just openly throw.

Eventually he was the one on the snow-cushioned ground, curled in a ball and saying "I give up, I give up!" as Abe stood above him, snowball in hand and smirk cracking his face.

Chest swelling in victory, Abe cast aside the packed snow to offer Mihashi a gloved hand that he took. Once he was standing on his legs, Abe moved to pat off the snow from him, before doing it to himself. Couldn't let this soak through their clothing.

"That was fun, right Abe?" Mihashi asked as they walked the short distance from the back-lawn to the front door.

Abe didn't want to admit anything, but he couldn't help the one nod that escaped.

"You can't learn everything from school and textbooks," Mihashi said as they entered the house again.

This caused Abe to pause in unbuttoning his jacket, turning to the teenager that had randomly spewed knowledge Abe believed he shouldn't be able to comprehend, let alone think of. Mihashi seemed to feel his gaze, as he looked up and smiled.

As Abe shook his head but couldn't help smiling as well.

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_AN: I don't like this one (really at all) but I decided to post it anyway (OTL)_


	6. Pregnancy

_AN: I kinda liked writing this one; it's fun writing Mihashi clueless and cute._

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6. Pregnancy

"T-Tajima-kun told me his step-sister is pregnant," Mihashi said to Abe as they walked to practice, breaking a silence that had fallen over them.

Abe grunted, and Mihashi took it as a suggestion to continue.

"She's nice, and is really careful. I think she'll be a good Mom," the pitcher deduced. Abe knew that because of his odd friendship with Tajima he had gone over to his house a few times; of course he would get accustomed to his huge family.

"Good for them," Abe creatively said as he began cracking a few knuckles while flexing his fingers; all that writing in history had really gotten to his hand.

There was just the crunching of dirt under their shoes before Mihashi talked again.

"I think that you'd be a good Mom too, Abe."

At this, Abe almost dislocated the wrist he'd been stretching back.

"You think things through, know what is dangerous and are a good foundation for support," Mihashi continued, unaware that his cather's face had frozen; "You always take really good care of me."

Abe had to will himself not to punch Mihashi in the face as the teen smiled up at him, or blush. It was a hard pair to multi task and he found himself failing at the later.


	7. Full Circle

_WARNING: Kinda graphic, but nothing full-lemon._

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7. Full Circle

Abe ran his fingers and nails over Mihashi's chest as if to try and grab through him, to feel his heart beat through the bone and flesh and skin so that he knew this was real, so that he could feel like he wasn't the only one who was worried for his health.

It had started out simple, which was odd for the two of them. Things had to be usually be worked around, fully explained. How they had gotten here now had been smooth and without a word, this transition had seemed effortlessly rather then the fact of getting rid of unwanted clothes.

He brought his mouth to Mihashi's left collar bone and reveled in the quiet gasp he got from him, reveled in the way his hands were now clawing at his back to try and hold onto reality.

They had been studying, something that had become a habit to the two of them ever since Abe had seen his pitcher's grades. They were already second years, they couldn't be goofing off like their first year or in middle school. Life outside of high school seemed to be closing in from around the corners.

Holding back a growl, Abe had to use all his energy to not allow his arms to go to jelly as Mihashi, at first uncertain, began to place feather-soft kissed from the top of his chest, moving down to his ribs. He kept going, and Abe didn't have the heart to stop him. Especailly when he got to the elastic band of his boxers.

They had decided to begin with math, being Mihashi's worst subject and Abe's best. Abe was thankful, just like at the plate, how well his mind could calculate and evaluate so he could help this pathetic excuse of a student. He had watched Mihashi use the formulas in succession, slumped against the table, bored out of his mind. Abe had been looking at an old baseball under his bed, wondering when that had gotten under there.

When Mihashi's calloused fingers slipped beneath the band, Abe couldn't help it and flipped onto his back, causing Mihashi to follow with something like a 'mewl' of surprise. Panting, he moved a hand to grasp Mihashi's left shoulder. He had made sure for it to be the left - he didn't want to harm his throwing arm in any way.

It was a nice late afternoon, and his family was away. Shun had been invited to a sleep-over while his parents were out at some get-together with friends from work (or something equally uninteresting). Abe had been completely grateful for Mihashi coming over so his Dad wouldn't give him a another quirk of being anti-social.

Mihashi recovered quickly, moving from his down position to crouch, his knees barely brushing Abe's. Just like Abe, he was careful; careful not to hurt the injury that had broken their first promise. He moved his hands back towards the underwear, eyes flashing up to Abe's face that was trying so desperately to stay passive and neutral.

Abe had noticed, as he invited Mihashi to come in, that they had been spending lots of time together. And that was excluding practice. They discovered that if they took different streets, they could meet half-way to school, and they decided that wouldn't be entirely displeasing. Abe liked the way Mihashi would stay quiet, their silent walks in the morning sun relaxing.

It was failing of course, the way his eyebrows were strung together and his forehead was damp with sweat, his eyes dialated as his chest rose and fell with harsh breathes. As Abe felt a kiss just below his bellybutton, he felt his back unexpectedly arch.

Through their time together, they began to be able to communicate easier, Abe didn't need Tajima to translate for him anymore. He enjoyed that very much, the other boys said he was too proud of the fact. Abe just scowled them away while Mihashi offered a smile.

But then the rough fingertips weren't at his hips anymore and were on the side of his face. Opening his eyes, he saw that Mihashi was looking down at him, as if silently pleading. Pleading to ask if what they were doing was ok, if he didn't mind what they were doing. What they would do if they didn't stop.

From spending so much time together, Abe could read Mihashi better then he'd ever dreamed. And when he was doing the formulas, he was snapping the pencil lead too much, meaning that he was nervous. But it was only him, and they were in the comfort of his room. They had even walked down the street to the convenience store to get ice cream before they began to study.

Abe felt ashamed of himself, he was doing nothing in this. So he lifted his hands and grabbed the sides of Mihashi's own face, taking a breath before bringing his lips against his own. It was rough as he felt teeth clash and lips mash, but it seemed neither of them cared very much.

Narrowing his eyes, Abe knew somethinig was definitely off as Mihashi jumped as he moved to sit directly next to him. Feeling his eyebrow twitch, Abe had asked him what was wrong, what was the problem? Was he still hungry, did he need to take a piss or something?

Their kiss evolved from the raw beginning to something richer, something that made them not want to separate. But pull apart they eventually had to do, both of them breathing hard together.

And then Mihashi did something Abe had to admit was brave for him. He had kissed him. Had thrown Abe to the ground even with his inferior strength, where he'd lied there in a daze before he was met with his pitcher's lips.

It was shocking.

The way Mihashi was making him feel, how he wanted to claw out this festering feeling.

Both of them looked each other in the eye.

And he'd wondered, what was happening. How had this happened?

Bringing Mihashi's forehead against his own, Abe realized he didn't care anymore.

It didn't matter because it felt right, connected.

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_AN: Do you guys get the title and story? There were two points in Abe's narrating, but then it came together to converge into one, it met its beginning/end so it created a circle (heh). And is it bad to beg for reviews? I really do enjoy your feedback; mind throwing me some?_


	8. Geisha

8. Geisha

Mihashi tried to figure out and decode Abe, but it was impossible. He couldn't do it.

Abe barely had any habits, any actions that he would do based on current mind-sets or emotions rather than his outbursts of anger. And even those were difficult to predict. Mihashi had realized he was stoic right off the bat (no pun intended), and that to make him show emotions was just as successful as winning a game. Whenever Mihashi got him to give that rare ghost of a smile on his face, it seemed more rewarding then getting to home plate.

Mihashi discovered that Abe was a mystery. Someone who could easily play a part, and succeed at it, without showing his true colors of beliefs. Mihashi was in awe in his ability to adapt to his environment and thrive. He was a good student, not as great as Hanai, but he was in the higher numbers in the school ranking. He was a master at reading people and knowing exactly how to pick apart and destroy them. Mihashi was thankful, everyday, that he was on his side; that they weren't enemies.

Maybe it was because they were a battery together, but Mihashi felt increasingly guilty for not knowing Abe's mind-frame. One day, he had scrounged up enough backbone to ask Abe about it.

He had blinked, before saying, "You know me just fine."

"I don't know a-anything about you, Abe." Mihashi knew his face must have looked devestated because Abe sighed and his eyebrow twitched in restraint.

"Exactly. I'm just a regular guy, there's nothing _to _know."

Mihashi tried to accept this answer, he truly did. But he knew, from watching Abe this long, that his belief wasn't the case.

He was a rare person who was reserved, yet caring at the same time. Even though he kept a low profile and wasn't actively seeking attention or praise, he still succeeded. Even though he was trapped in a schedule and lifestyle that didn't offer much individuality, he stood out. He was a master at juxtaposed attributes.

Abe was amazing.

Abe was _beautiful_.

That was what Mihashi finally decided; that was all he needed to know.


	9. Old

9. Old

Abe felt like his Dad when he was with Mihashi sometimes. The way Mihashi would recklessly become attached to something, or the way he didn't give much care to how he treated his body, Abe seemed to always have to be the person to drag him away. It had taken Abe a good two months to get Mihashi over his candy addiction, and it had been hard work. And this was coming from someone who didn't mind four hour practices.

The catcher felt like if he didn't look after Mihashi, he would eventually self-destruct on himself. And since he was the ace, and since they were a battery, Abe knew he couldn't allow this to happen (no matter what).

This knowledge still didn't make it any easier to continuously snap and pester Mihashi, to hover over him in both baseball and school to make sure he was doing fine. It made Abe invite him over to his house annually to study and eat a healthy dinner (no takeout, no excuses) when his Mom had to work night shifts. Abe knew his Mom loved to have an extra mouth to feed and his Dad stopped pestering his anti-social tendencies a little less, so that wasn't so bad.

And then there were moments where Mihashi lost Abe in his actions so much he felt like they were from different worlds, that they were different ages. It was disheartening whenever Abe couldn't follow along, especially when that freckled shortie came in and seemed to understand everything and was entirely chummy with his pitcher.

But through time those unconnected moments eventually began to dwindle, to become more of a rare event. Mihashi's odd ability to speed ahead of Abe on some matters, like the way he talked or acted, waned out of existence.

Abe began noticing that Mihashi would stick around with him, would be patient and wait for Abe. It made the catcher feel like he wasn't alone, wasn't the only one trying, and it made him grateful.

Sometimes, the way Mihashi would smile up at him, it made Abe feel too special and awkward in this unneccessary praise.

When Abe took the leap and grabbed onto Mihashi's hand that one day after a game and Mihashi had squeezed back, Abe felt like maybe they had finally met up. Maybe they now understood each other.

It was oddly ironic how his annoyance of misunderstandings and stressing their friendship morphed into Mihashi reading him too well, for the pitcher to know Abe better then himself. One day, while they relaxed on the roof, holding hands and commenting on the bright blue sky, Abe realized in horror that they were like one of those so-adorable-it-was-sickening old people couple.

The way they got each other, the way they very often didn't give a shit to what other people thought of them, it was just like his grandparents.

And then Mihashi had turned to him with grin that was positively splitting his face. Abe had sighed before ruffling his hair.

Mihashi made him feel energized; this affection made him feel youthful.

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_AN: It's a little choppy/unpolished but I can't seem to care at the moment (I hope you guys don't mind either DX) Reviews = love!_


	10. Owning Up

10. Owning Up

"You know, you kinda use the posessive a lot with Mihashi."

At the voice, Abe turned around and stared at a grinning Taijma, his freckles stark against his flushed skin from their latest conditioning exercise.

"What?" the dark haired teen asked as he stood, looking down on the shorter teenager with intentional menace.

But Tajima didn't seem intimidated and only shrugged as he said, "You heard me," before going off towards the other side of the dugout, not missing the opportunity to slap a few of his teammates on their backsides as they leaned down to get their water.

Shaking his head, Abe had thought that the shortie needed to learn how to talk more sense.

But a few days later and he was avoiding Tajima, because he had realized he was right and Abe didn't want to admit it.

How he said _his _pitcher, _his _idiot. What made Abe think that he fully controlled, that he owned, Mihashi like some plot of land. He wasn't a king, no near one in fact (much too irritable).

Abe tried to stop the habit, to forcefully alter the way he spoke. He didn't want Mihashi to get the wrong impression, that he was just a tool that he was using to succeed. Sure, he had initially thought in that fashion, but he had quickly realized that wasn't the way to go. Give and get, it was a karma-like process and he didn't want to offset anything.

But a few days later, while he was coming out from the showers a little late, he saw a sight that made his blood boil.

The team wasn't just ten anymore in their now second year, as they had gotten an impressive thirteen new members, ten of those being first-years. And right now, two of those (the names escaped Abe even though they'd been practicing for a week together), were standing over Mihashi as he sat against the wall, arms around his knees and face hidden.

"Why are you the ace? You're just an untalented _idiot,_" one of them sneered while the other laughed.

Abe knew, when it came down to it, Mihashi _was _an idiot. But he was Abe's idiot and no one was allowed to call him that rather then himself. And no-one, not even himself, was allowed to insult Mihashi's pitching in such a blatant and disrespectful way.

It was more than enough for Abe to come in swinging.

He thought he heard a crack as he uppercut the closest one who had talked, sending him sprawling to the ground in a mixture of pain and shock, but he didn't give much care. The other one smartly slunk a few steps back, out of Abe's initial punch range. The one on the ground quickly sprung up, cradling his jaw while his eyes were wide and kept blinking.

Suddenly thankful for his vice-captain position and being a second-year, Abe snarled, "Get out of here. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

They scampered off without a second thought.

This left Abe with a very fragile Mihashi. As Abe sat down on the cement and forcefully grabbed Mihashi's hand off his shin to hold in his own, he couldn't help but remember their first game together. The one against Mihoshi; the sudden swell of knowing what he had to do and the hope that Mihashi would stay with him and not go back. It was the game where he knew something had evolved.

"You ok?" Abe asked after a long moment. How could he let something like this happen; he needed to show Hanai how to interrogate new members more thoroughly.

Mihashi seemed to stiffen his shivering before he nodded his head. He still hadn't lifted his face from his knees.

"Come on, they're just stupid first-years," Abe continued to talk, "They don't know anything. Don't think about them."

This seemed to coax Mihashi at least to lower his legs to stretch out before him, his eyes welled with tears that made Abe wince. Even in all their time working together, he had never gotten used to Mihashi crying.

"You're the ace for the team rightfully," Abe stated seriously, "Don't let anyone else tell you that. You're my pitcher, if you weren't good enough I would have thrown you away long ago."

Mihashi seemed to tense at this and Abe mentally slapped himself, no need to further scare him. Comfort, _comfort_! It had never been one of Abe's strong points.

But Mihashi surprised him by saying through hiccups and sniffs, "S-Say that a-again."

"If you weren't good enough I wouldn't pay you attention?"

"N-No, before that."

"That you're my pitcher?"

Abe mentally slapped himself again; that damn possessive. So Mihashi really had picked up on it.

"Again!" Mihashi cheered, moving his body to fully face Abe, tears drying up in an instant, although his face seemed redder then before.

"You're my pitcher."

Mihashi's smile covered his face and his eyes rolled back before collapsing against the ground.

Abe didn't know what to think anymore. Was he happy? Annoyed? Even angry? He was acted weirder then normal. But then Mihashi stood with a start, still holding Abe's hand and so pulling him up along with him.

_"I'm Abe's pitcher!_" he suddenly yelled out to the empty school grounds as he raised their held hands.

Abe blinked. What. The. _Fuck_.

Had those first-years hit Mihashi's head with their bats or something? Abe had never heard him yell that loud of with such conviction before.

But then Mihashi had turned to him with a smaller grin, and eyes seemed to glimmer. Abe suddenly felt out of place, uncomfortable as the bright-haired teenager looked up at him in wonder and admiration.

"I'm yours," Mihashi stated.

Abe took a moment to nod in agreement.

Mihashi nodded himself, as if to say 'Good, don't forget it,' before beginning to slowly walk away. He seemed to still forget that he was holding Abe's hand in something close to a death-grip as the catcher stumbled to follow; Abe forgot how strong his hand was from his pitching.

But Abe noticed it wasn't cold anymore, it was warm. Almost a little too warm.

Oh, wait, that was him.

Stupid possessive pronouns.

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_AN: This one got a little away from me, but I still like how it turned out ;D [You can never go wrong with fluff, right?]_


	11. Inoculation

11. Inoculation

It was always at the most unsuspecting moments, like when he was at the vending machine getting Oolong tea; like now.

"Hey there Star Pitcher!" a boy that looked like a third year called from behind him, causing Mihashi to whirl around and spill some tea onto the tiled ground. Even though he was now a second year, age wasn't the thing that caught Mihashi off guard. It was the way this guy seemed to ooze confidence.

"I heard that you guys got third in that summer tournament," he said as he pulled out coins from his pockets, plucking them into the machine. Mihashi listened to the clinks and tried to smile and nod at the praise.

"Well, that's just fantastic, isn't it?" he continued to say as he leaned down and grabbed his drink before snapping it open and bringing it to his mouth; it was a protein drink. The red-head should have slapped himself, he should be drinking that!

"Only problem is," he said as he crushed the bottle he'd already downed, "That you took away people who were supposed to cheer for us."

Mihashi blinked as he was suddenly thrown against the wall with a hand to his chest, his tea falling to the floor. He saw the bottle spin out of the corner of his eye, the almost entirely clear liquid coating the floor and seeping between the tiles of the hallway.

Now seeing his face so close up, the teenager noticed the fellow teenager seemed familiar. Oh; he was the captain and quarterback of the American Football team. Mihashi didn't want to look at the menacing young man in front of him anymore - he closed his eyes tight and tried to evaporate into the wall.

"What's going on here?" a voice asked, and Mihashi opened his eyes to see the mystery teenager wasn't hovering over him against the wall dangerously anymore. He looked to follow the deep voice and saw Abe.

"Nothing man, nothing," the guy grinned as he shook his head before turning to leave. But before he turned the corner, he said, air quotes included, "Remember what I said 'Star Pitcher.'"

And then he was gone, leaving the two friends alone in a hallway with only a spilled bottle of tea.

As Abe stayed rooted, the pitcher saw his body was still tense. But he seemed to finally relax as he moved to pick up the empty Oolong tea bottle, avoiding the spilled liquid from getting on his shoes and pant hems.

"Don't let assholes like him get to you."

Mihashi nodded at the order even though he knew he really couldn't fully comply. Even with their ever-increasing rank and popularity as a team that had his confidence in himself budding, the redhead felt like he couldn't just blow off these guys as easily as Abe made it sound.

The catcher seemed to understand this as he sighed before he put in a few coins, pushing the button for the same tea Mihashi had gotten and lost. He felt like grinning as they shared the same taste- oh. He had gotten it for him, as Abe threw it up for him to catch.

"Just make sure I'm around," Abe said as he got milk for himself; "Then you don't have to worry about anything."

To this, Mihashi nodded his head vigorously and ignored how his ears suddenly felt hot.

He could easily agree to that.

* * *

_AN: I was drinking Mihashi's drink and I thought of this; cheers for odd inspiration! But, more importantly, thanks for reading and I love the feedback!_


	12. Trees

12. Trees

Mihashi could feel the air through his hair, could feel his lungs fill and exhale in rapid succession. He could only hear his heartbeat as he pumped his legs harder, faster to get to his destination. Because this was war right now, and he had a strong urge to win.

He looked across to his black-haired enemy at the moment: Abe. His grey eyes narrowed to the street that stretched in front of them and his back was arched, arms bent and knuckles white against the handlebars like Mihashi.

But no, Mihashi thought as he began turning his head back to what was in front of him, he couldn't get distracted in this deadly race on-

Mihashi heard a sudden crack before falling. He blinked up, trying to regain his senses, only to see Abe's face. He dully noted that his eyes were wide in worry, his lips slightly parted as he muttered incomprehensible words.

"W-What happened Abe?" he asked as he tried to sit up, at to the other teen moved aside to allow him.

"You ran into a branch," Abe said with a straight face. "And your hard head snapped it clean off the tree. Gotta admit, it was kinda cool."

Mihashi blinked before asking, "W-What?"

Abe sighed, "If I wasn't so worried about injury I would have laughed. You did a perfect back flip before landing flat on your face."

"So I lost?" Mihashi asked with a shaking bottom lip.

But then he felt a hand on his back, looking up to Abe whose mouth was stretched in something like a smile. "How about for compensation in losing so many brain cells, you automatically win the bike race."

Mihashi stood to pump his fist into the air, but it only lasted for a few moments before he was down again.

Ever since then, Abe had his eye out for trees. He didn't want them harming his ace. Those trees... you really couldn't turn your back on them.

* * *

_AN: I don't know. I really don't know XD_


	13. Home

13. Home

Ever since he was little, Mihashi had moved from place to place, apartment to apartment. He would long for the last place whenever they got up and left, but he would never feel a true loss. Maybe it was because he wasn't allowed the sufficient time to accumulate to a place, to find something that made him feel bondage.

To him, houses were just wood and cement without memories; without people and laughter to fill it with the place was empty and forgettable.

Mihashi felt so many emotions on the mound. Pride, fervor, amazement, panic, enlightenment. But there was always one feeling that seemed to override all the others, and that was the feeling of belonging. That here, on this simple collection of dirt, he was suited.

It was something he had never felt to this magnitude before.

But this mound would mean nothing it it wasn't for the person who crouched ahead of it, the person who allowed Mihashi to feel this rightful placement.

Without Abe, and without the signs and support, this place would feel like a prison. He would only be scratching at the walls in an attempt to get out, to escape from failure. But Abe let him shine, let him show that he wasn't so worthless.

No house was his home. No; it was this field and the one he shared it with that had become his true place of comfort.


	14. Fear

14. Fear

It was eating away at Abe.

It was like one of those horrid, tropical infections brought by a bug-bit that made organs melt or for skin to break out in rashes and chip away. But what the catcher was facing wasn't something as simple as an incurable and unnamed infection; this wasn't anything physical. It was mental, and that made all the difference.

Abe was obsessed in how he could convince Mihashi to be closer, more connected. How could he make that idiot feel like he never wanted to leave Abe's side? How did he make Mihashi feel that same, unparalleled fear of being abandoned that made the catcher wake up at night, sweating. How could he make Mihashi realize that worry of someone leaving; of abandonment at its lowest, rudimentary level.

Self-consciousness wasn't what Abe usually did, but he usually didn't do half the things he was willing to do for baseball in his life. In his life he didn't need to be social or friends; the team made him laugh and grin and uphold actual conversations. In usually day-to-day he was so apathetic he deserved an Oscar for such a sweeping act; in baseball he screamed his lungs out. And while he regularly didn't feel sub-par, this sport made him seem extremely finicky and strict.

But this was only remotely about the sport, he belatedly realized some time later.

One day, after the battery had stayed longer at practice and had gotten to the showers late, the only ones around being themselves, Abe found the solution.

He had slammed Mihashi's barely clothed body against the lockers and used his still-gloved hand to raise his chin, their lips meeting together in an unglorious light.

Abe had wondered if this strategy was going to work as he tilted his head to the right by a fraction. He had never really kissed anyone before, he had never been interested in fullfilling his hormones past the magazines and occassional video. But suddenly Mihashi's hands were bunching his undershirt and he was pushing off the lockers to be closer to Abe.

Abe ignored the suddden lift in his chest and moved his other hand to completely mash Mihashi's body against his own.

And so began a dance that both of them treaded on lightly, worried for what was going to happen if they tried to take reckless steps forward. But soon they were finding hiding places where they would crush their bodies together, groans and gasps held back behind bit tongues and lips. Soon they lost all inhibition, lost the rhythm in their steps as they began flailing, grasping onto each other rather then keeping a distance and poise.

But then Abe realized something horrible, when he watched Mihashi nervously talking with a girl one day at lunch.

His fear hadn't been sedated in the least, now it was even worse then before. He had made his own Catch 22, this ironic play that he'd fully lost himself in.

He had wanted Mihashi to never leave him as his pitcher, now he didn't want to leave him as something even more.

Abe could tell he was being obvious enough so that even Mihashi could tell something was wrong that day as they walked back from practice. The way that Abe didn't even pull him against him once on the way home, even as they parted ways, made the dark-haired teen feel proud of himself.

The next day Mihashi didn't go to school, he got a text at lunch saying he had gotten a sudden cold. Abe knew it was a lie.

So he had biked to his house right after practice, not giving time to take a shower. He knew that today Mihashi's Mom had to work a late shift, meaning he would be all alone at his house. Lonely and probably hiding under his sheets, gorging on candy to get a stomach ache so that the redhead could be distracted by at least that.

Throwing his bike on the ground, he knocked on the door with a fist. When Mihashi opened it, eyes red and weary, he didn't wait to invited in.

He pushed the now stunned-face Mihashi back into the house before closing the door after him with a soft click. He then even took the time to untie his cleats and take off his gloves and socks before standing up to see Mihashi's face that was beginning to tear up.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" he said as he suddenly slumped against Abe's frame, arms coming to circle around his neck gently as his breath tickled his neck. "Whatever I d-did," he continued to say as his frame shook against the taller teen, "I'm so, so s-sorry!"

Stunned by this sudden turn, Abe slowly wrapped his arms around Mihashi's lanky torso. He had been thinking that Mihashi hadn't come to school because he didn't like Abe anymore, that because they hadn't done anything yesterday he was tired of him. Abe supposed, now, that he had let his own inhibitions and insecurity cloud his mind. He hadn't been thinking, he had only been worried.

In an uncharacteristically soft manner, he twisted his head to place a light kiss against Mihashi's neck that had his sniveling quiet. The teenager seemed surprised as he retracted his head, wide eyes blinking.

Abe smiled gently before leaning down, pressing their lips together in a soft, sweet way. He knew that this was the first time he'd been so careful, so openly vulnerable and slow.

"A-Abe..." he drifted off as his tears had finally gone away.

But he stayed silent as he brought a hand to the back of the teenager's bright-colored head, bringing it closer to him to touch their foreheads and noses together.

In this moment, as Abe felt his shirt stick to his back from sweat and smelled Mihashi's own clean scent, he realized that he wasn't the only one afraid anymore.

Feeling brave, Abe cradled Mihashi's face that was now grinning widely, before kissing him again.


	15. Life

15. Life

Abe felt the mask fall from his fingers that had seemed go to numb, head up to see the flashing numbers on the scoreboard. His ears were deaf to the calls and cheers from the stands, to the trumpets and drums. Because there on the scoreboard stood two numbers to represent two schools; his wasn't the one with the larger total.

He moved his eyes to see Mihashi still at the mound and first noticed his hand clenched at his side, the ball trapped in his calloused fingers. There hadn't been time to get it back home, no time to stop that runner from hitting home to beat them by one.

Abe felt his legs move him towards his pitcher before he could stop himself. He told himself it was the same as his arms grasped the shorter, smaller body against his.

"I'm sorry," Abe said as his hands formed fists against Mihashi's back. He felt trembling, but didn't know if it was from his pitcher or himself.

"I don't want it to be over," Mihashi whispered.

They had been so close. This was the finale tournament, the final hoozah before they were graduating and going their separate ways. There were still the original ten in the club, and there were now multiple first and second years who would continue the club. But Abe knew that he and Mihashi wouldn't be here anymore. Their three years was up and so was his internal promise of taking care of this pitcher.

In their time together they had won a few tournaments, so all their work wasn't for naught in the way of recognition. But Abe had wanted them to win this one so badly, to go out strong; he knew everyone else felt the same.

Abe realized he agreed with Mihashi's statement.

"It doesn't have to be over," Abe further realized.

It was a long shot, but they could go to the same college; they had applied to all the same ones and were just waiting acceptance. They could still be a battery, could still be partners. And then after college they could be drafted for a major league team; they could make a living out of this. Their lives for the past three years had been surrounded by baseball, why should it change now?

But Mihashi didn't seem to hear him as he rested his forehead against Abe's chest. Abe could tell he'd given his all, and now he was exhausted.

As a few members came up to ask if they were alright and Abe responded by nodding and moving arms across Mihashi's shoulders to bring him to the dugout. There they were met with pats on the back and hugs that crushed his ribs into a jumble.

And then there were tears.

Tears of longing from the original ten that wouldn't be able to do this anymore; they had come so far. Abe himself felt the sting in the corner of his eyes, but kept blinking and swallowing to hold them back. Even the second and first years were openly baling at the lose of having their strong and influential friends go away.

Yet when he saw Mihashi on the bench, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as tears welled out, he felt he couldn't hold it back anymore.

He sat down next to his pitcher and cried.

He cried for the memories, for the wins and loses, for every strike and every run they'd let go. And even though his eyes were useless and feeling hot, the flashes of places and smiles ran a loop in his head; it gave visuals to the already potent memories.

Feeling something warm on his back, he saw that Mihashi had put his hand against it. The hand that had allowed for all of this to happen. This gesture that Abe was sure was supposed to be reassuring only made him cry harder, for him to grasp and squeeze Mihashi's other hand all the harder.

"It doesn't have to be over," he heard Mihashi make out through his sobs. He squeezed Abe's hand back as he continued to stare up at the wooden wall. But there was a difference; his trademark nervous smile was back on his face even through the salty drops.

Suddenly, even in this misery of loss, Abe felt hope for the future.

* * *

_AN: I like this one for some reason...hm... _


	16. Perturbation

16. Perturbation

Abe had been wary about Mihashi's first meeting with his Dad. Although his old man was similar to Abe, he tended to be too honest at times and wasn't afraid to headlock a person.

But it seemed he didn't have all that much to worry about as his Dad revealed he'd already met Mihashi during the tournament. That now explained why his Dad had thought he could talk about his battery so confidently that night (even thinking about it made Abe bristle at the memory). Abe supposed they hadn't been as close as he'd believed, but they were better now. Much better.

So after they'd done introductions, they had gone up to Abe's room to watch some videos of potential rivals in the next tournament. Even though Abe's knee had just recovered, he was more ready then ever to get back and show everyone what he could do. Tajima could suck it.

He had recognized Mihashi's nervous behavior, and also the odd way his eyes kept trailing from the screen to his stomach. Eventually, Abe had to pause the game from his festering annoyance that was threatening to explode.

"What is it Mihashi?" he asked with a strained straight face.

This caught the pitcher off guard as he seemed to squirm and try and fold into himself, before he did something that had Abe's eyebrows raised to his hairline. Because Mihashi had moved his hand to place over his stomach, his hand warm even through the cotton of his shirt.

When he patted his stomach a few times, Abe felt his back straighten. When Mihashi seemed to sigh in relief and pull back his hand, Abe felt his eyes narrow.

"_What _was that?" Abe demanded.

The teenager darted his eyes this way and that before he gulped and said, "Your Dad..."

"What?" Abe asked, still in confusion, still ruffled that Mihashi had suddenly just put his hand on him without warning.

Seeing Mihashi's brows furrow and his expression set into one of serious, Abe felt a spark of amusement. It didn't fit on his usually nervous or overly-zealous face at all.

"You can't get fat," he said flatly, causing Abe's amusement to be cut short.

Even though he wasn't a girl, he still felt his face flush in annoyance and embarrassment. "I am not fat you idiot!" he almost shouted in defense.

"B-But your D-Dad..." Mihashi said, his stutter probably returning from the sudden switch in his partner's tone.

And then Abe realized the connection. It made the chuckle impossible to hold back. Of course, his Dad's stomach was the size of a beach ball, and Abe was his son. He supposed Mihashi would be naturally worried that he might turn out the same.

"I'm _not _going to get _fat_," he stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Mihashi sighed in obvious relief before nodding his head and turning back towards the TV, appeased by the agreement.

Pressing play, Abe reflected on how the guys on the team said _he _was the worry-wart.

* * *

_AN: When I saw Abe's dad all I could think about was: Abe! Don't turn out fat like him! And I thought Mihashi would agree XD_


	17. Animal

17. Animal

Abe clung to his seat like it was his only life-line.

He had gone over to Mihashi's today, after he'd gotten an interesting text from his fellow pro-baseball player gushing about how he wanted to show Abe something. The star catcher had gone over, and then been promptly pulled over to the red-head's garage. There he was shown something metal and beautiful. Mihashi had actually pushed Abe into the passenger seat before putting the key in the ignition and revving the engine to a deafening level.

Abe should have known something was up when he saw a smirk (a genuine smirk on the most passive and skittish Abe had ever known) come over his face.

"Mihashi, slow down!" Abe wailed as a screech of tires was heard from the pitcher taking a sharp turn at a speed that Abe knew was way over the limit.

"I'm serious!" Abe continued to yell over the wind and the tires.

He would have never expected Mihashi to be a crazy driver, but that seemed all too obvious the case. He drove way over the speed limit, carelessly passed people and didn't seem to know about the wonders of brakes. His turns were erratic and his foot never seemed to leave the pedal.

Abe had lost count of the people who had yelled curses or flipped them off; they had sped away in the European sports car before Abe could have really taken note to whether they were angry or just jealous.

Overall, it was a disaster. And right now, all Abe wanted to was to get out.

Mihashi made it off the highway and up a mountain road, where he finally skidded to a halt on a scenic viewpoint. Abe would have found the view nice, if his vision wasn't swimming and he could barely tell where the ocean started and the sky ended. For some reason, the horizon was now vertical.

"Nice right?" Mihashi asked after he'd put on the parking brake and had taken the keys out.

Abe had given one, stoic nod before he opened the door and puked.

* * *

_AN: I wanted to try doing deliberate OC. I know, weird thought, but I suppose I like how this came out *shrugs*_


	18. Inspiration

18. Inspiration

Abe knew that he was a fighter and that meant he persevered further than most people.

But when he met Mihashi and watched him through all the games he played, he realized there were others who tried even harder than him. Maybe it was because the pitcher was so desperate for redemption and to make everyone happy; to never have what happened in his middle school reoccur. Abe thinks that that's what makes him so strong, that he's doing this all for others and not himself.

Mihashi isn't greedy like Abe in how he wants to prove to everyone that he's the best; Mihashi wants to prove to everyone that they can believe in their dreams and desires.

The catcher had first thought that he was going to use him as a tool, as something to only get what he desired. But it seemed, somewhere along those innings and hits, that he was now relying on him. He wasn't so much a bargaining chip, but a foundation.

Thank God for this lovable idiot; he always kept Abe going.

And Abe thought that if Mihashi was fighting for everyone else, someone needed to fight for him.

Abe supposed he could take that position.


	19. Guess Again

19. Guess Again

Mihashi watched in interest as Tajima let out a yell of happiness as Hanai came into the dugout, having just gotten Abe to third with a sacrifice, before he soundly slapped the taller boy on the behind. The sound had seemed to echo throughout the small room, and a few of the other boys snickered in amusement. Momo seemed to just lightly snort, too focused on the opposing team they were facing today, even if it was just for practice.

Of course, the buzz-cut teenager whipped on the freckled shortie with a snarl and annoyance-laced snap before stalking off to get water, but Mihashi was still interested as to what had just happened.

So, being the ever inquizical one, Mihashi asked Tajima what he'd just done and why.

"Well, it's like a celebrating thing. Like a 'Good job!' without having to say it!" he said with a face-splitting grin before bounding off to the front of the line to bat, since it was almost his turn in this scrimmage.

He left Mihashi alone to watch as Abe crouched in preparation before the crack of the ball being hit resounded; he was off just like the ball.

When he came back into the dugout not a minute later, not even dirty from not needing to slide, Mihashi grinned wide and waved him over.

Feeling that maybe his pitcher had something important to tell him, the dark-haired teen had walked over.

"What is-"

But Abe didn't have a chance to finish as he watched (in total, unadultrated shock) as Mihashi soundlessly smacked him on the ass.

While the others had laughed at Tajima, they were eerily silent as they waited for Abe's response; even Momo was watching with an arched eyebrow. Tajima was grinning like an idiot and barely holding in his laughter; Hanai helped him out with an elbow to the ribs that had him sputtering.

Mihashi seemed oblivious to it all as he stood there with a slight grin before saying, "That was for doing such a g-g-good job!"

Abe didn't dare turn around to face the others; he knew his face was bright red.

The others mistook his shaking as suppressed anger before they turned back to the game; they didn't know he was suppressing something else entirely.

[Mihashi did a few hours later.]


	20. Missing You

20. Missing You

Mihashi calls him sometimes, but Abe knows him more through television screens and sports magazines now.

That dope had somehow managed to throw himself into a world of success and ability once high-school had ended and had only seemed to continue upwards. There were even rumors about the light-haired pitcher was going to America to play there. But he knows that Mihahsi loves his team at the moment and doesn't feel the need to go anywhere. He had a good catcher, a good team that backs him up and supports him; just like Abe did all those years ago. It seems forever that he's been crouching behind that plate, but it hadn't even been a full decade.

Abe watches his old friend even at work, where his office allows him ability for privacy. There he looks over papers and writes; in the corner of his desk there is a small TV that he turns on for games.

His eyes dart from stuffy text to his lanky past-teammate, who has grown tall. His shoulders are wider, and he has more freckles from being constantly outside. Rather than his jittery persona, he has become eerily calm and quiet, quite the opposite to when Abe had to deal with him.

He wonders if he was simply unable to change him, but he knows that professional teams have much more resources.

Abe puts down his papers and glasses and watches; he wonders where he went wrong.

Was it how he never allowed his knee to fully recover, making him grimace when it rains and it freezes up? A man of not even thirty and he's already shuffling his walk on occasion, it was pathetic really.

Was it how he got too involved in school smarts and become disenchanted with the sport that he used to love so much? In this job he had pay to buy a house and sustain a family; he stuck to a hole in the wall and instant noodles.

Or was it how he had fallen for Mihashi and had become afraid of taking the next step?

.

On Saturdays Abe runs, and it is then when he sees Mihashi for the first time, in person, in years.

For some reason, even after his parents had moved away to a more relaxing house in the country once his younger brother went to college, Abe stayed in the same neighborhood he had grown up in. Sometimes he sees Tajima, who has become a school teacher, or Hajima, who has become a lawyer like himself. He sees their faces among others, but doesn't give much account to them. A wave and a smile from across the road or in his car, but they aren't nearly as close as they were all those years ago; back when they had wanted to be older.

But when he sees Mihashi on that old pictcher's mound at their school that closed down a few years ago, his lungs shutter and he has to stop running.

His hand reaches up towards the fence, but that slight sound isn't enough to catch the pitcher's attention.

Abe watches him.

He watches his form and how he has become able to command his nine-part format even more. He's wearing a short-sleeved shirt and Abe can see the crafted, lithe muscles stretch and pull as he releases the ball. When Mihashi finally runs out of them, he begins walking with the bucket to pick them up; it's then that he sees Abe's looming persona.

If Mihashi had been younger, he would have jumped.

But now he just smiles, and for a moment Abe sees that youth the pixels on the television screen can't convey.

"Abe-kun."

He says his name loud and proud, and Abe sighs before walking around to meet him half-way.

The dark-haired young man half expects the pitcher to tackle him into a hug, but that is not the case. Mihashi does hug him, but it is gentle and Abe realizes in chagrin that Mihashi is now a good few inches taller than him; he wraps his arms around Abe's shoulders rather than neck.

Silently, they move to sit in the dug-out, where it seems weeds have sprung up and a small family of squirrels have made it their home.

"How have you been?" Mihashi asks first, and so the conversation begins.

Abe is surprised at how easy it is to fit back into their regular routine, even if Mihashi's habits aren't to such a high degree. But it's good to see he still fidgets and stutters on occasion; they don't show these things on TV either. Their voices are deeper, and so are the things they talk about. Mihashi explains how he might be traded, and Abe explains how his firm is expanding. They both smile graciously at each other, and Abe wonders if Mihashi pities him. But it doesn't seem like that, rather, he's interested in what Abe has been doing with his capable brain.

He tells him that if his catcher had half his ability the team would be number one; Abe reminds him that number four in the standings isn't horrible either.

"I just got the hand of this new pitch," Mihashi says as he stands, arms raising up and showing a flash of midriff.

"Because you don't have enough already," Abe snarks, and Mihashi chuckles for a moment.

Abe still can't get over how his voice is just as deep as his now, that his shoulders are broader and that his face doesn't have as much baby fat anymore.

"Care to be my catcher once again?" he asks with a smile that is crooked and shaky; his true smile.

Soon they are out on the mound and behind the plate, Abe not worrying about a mask and using Mihashi's glove. He grins over at him and that's the last thing Abe contemplates before that baseball hits his glove like a canon.

"Abe!"

Mihashi yells in worry, and Abe sits up in discomfort as he feels his tailbone throbbing.

"Are you alright?"

Mihashi asks as he crouches down to his fallen level.

Abe looks up and feels his face flush in pure embarrassment.

"This isn't my life anymore!" he snarls as he stands and throws the glove down on the plate; "I can't do this anymore! You know that; why did you come back?"

And suddenly all that nostalgic talk just minutes before seems empty; Abe should have kept running even if it hurt.

"I'm sorry, I just..."

He can't finish, but he maintains eye-contact.

"I've had enough," Abe whispers as he stands up, hands tightened to fists as his side.

Mihashi stumbles up as well and attempts to follow him with a step, but Abe stops him with a hand on his chest.

"Stop Mihashi. You have to stop," he says, even though he can feel the heat through the thin layer of Mihashi's shirt and can feel his fast heartbeat race up his veins.

Abe glances back just as he's about to turn at the rusted fence and that idiot is still standing on home plate, not even having the courtesy to pull down his hat to hide his tears.

And even though he misses him, his pride doesn't allow him to sprint back.

Or maybe it isn't his pride at all, but the knowledge that he will only pull Mihashi down with him to the level of mediocrity.

.

Abe can't sleep well anymore.

At night he twists and turns, the blankets tangling in his limbs and between his sweaty palms. Some nights he watches the moon rise and dim the stars with it's overbearing light; in the morning it sets and the sun comes up to remind him that he has responsibilities. He tries to take sleeping pills, but they only give him vivid nightmares and jolt him awake, only to be sucked back in to start the process. Abe contemplates seeing a doctor, but until then he just waits until he will be too tired to fall asleep.

It is for this reason why he hears the soft knock on his door.

Moving his blank face from the ceiling to his digital clock that blinks a bright red 2:17 AM, Abe wonders if he's now hearing things.

But then it is again - a soft rapping of knuckles. This time it seemed a little stronger.

Getting up, not even bothering to put a shirt on, he meanders solely in his pajama pants to the door of his apartment. Maybe it was just a mistake, and that someone was looking for another down the hall or on another floor. There were some sketchy people, but that was what allowed the rent to be so low.

Yet when Abe opens the door, looking out with half-opened eyes, he sees that it is Mihashi who is standing there.

His hair is in disarray like senior year, when he had denied to cut it because Abe commented on how it looked kinda cool in the sun. Abe really wanted to say that with the sun behind him it looked like he had a halo; but that was too cheesy even to tell to a gushy teenage girl. His clothes are normal, the long sleeved shirt is old and tattered around the cuffs and one of the buttons near his neck is gone, leaving a nice angle of his collarbone. His hands are in his jean pockets, but Abe can see the twitching of his fingers against the course material.

Mihashi's face is a different story; his eyes are red and almost empty.

Abe stands there, unable to think of anything to say, before Mihashi invites himself in by stepping into his apartment.

The dark-haired twenty-odd year old naturally takes steps back in defense, allowing Mihashi to close the door before turning to him.

"I want to say... a lot," he tries to speak, "But I don't know if you'll hear me, Abe."

The one being addressed narrows his eyes; he's dropped the suffix again.

"I-"

Mihashi can't say anymore as he's suddenly right there Abe, hands on the sides of his face, blocking his ears. But Abe can still hear something - he can still hear his hammering heart.

"What are you doing?" he finally gets out, although it sounds muted because of Mihashi's pressing hands.

The pitcher doesn't answer with words; Mihashi kisses Abe.

.

Abe wakes up with an arm around him the next morning.

He feels the warm body behind him, and feels the tickle of breath against the nap of his neck; despite the heat he shivers.

Despite how it brings another shiver, Abe can remember last night with clarity. He can remember the searing kisses and the, at first awkward, touches and grabs. Abe can remember the way Mihashi's calloused fingers had felt on his skin and the way it had made him finally feel alive.

Abe remembers finally being able to say Mihashi's name out loud in the form of a strangled cry.

Feeling Mihashi's arm around his bare torso tighten even more, Abe decides to twist so he can face him.

But it seems that the professional pitcher is already awake, as his bright eyes are trained on Abe right when he turns around. Feeling a little self-conscious and still entirely sober, Abe places his head on the pillow (not Mihashi's pitching arm; never that arm) and finally looks up to him.

"I l-love you."

His voice is soft, and Abe doesn't have much time to think before he's being pulled against his chest where he both hears and feels Mihashi's erratic heartbeat. This makes Abe unable to hold back returning the statement.

"I love you, too."

And even though Abe is scared stiff about what is going to happen next in both their lives and how this will work out, he's finally willing to fight for something.

Mihashi pulls his head back, and Abe sees that he's crying again.

"You idiot," Abe laughs as he reaches up and whips his tears away.

* * *

_AN: This totally got away from me. I was going to stop it at least twice, but then it just kept going mostly because I just wanted a happy ending to the end of my collection :) Yes, that's right, that's all folks! Hope you enjoyed the reads, now time to go write for other series!_


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